


Damian Al Gull and his magical murdering

by Karupinthecat



Category: Batman (Comics), Robin (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Assassination, Blood and Torture, Murder, Other, Smol Damian Wayne, Teaching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21673240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karupinthecat/pseuds/Karupinthecat
Summary: With his sword he stabbed the child respectfully in his heart. When he pulled back, the child fell on the ground and he could see the blood spread over his chest like an ink stain. In a few spastic twist, the soul left the body. When the blood spread  over the floor, Damian could see his reflection in it. His face was constructed out of different colors of red.This story is about a 6 year old Damian and his life in the league. Slowly he will grow conscious of the terribleness of his actions, but by then it will be far too late
Kudos: 13





	Damian Al Gull and his magical murdering

1  
With his sword he stabbed the child respectfully in his heart. When he pulled back, the child fell on the ground and he could see the blood spread over his chest like an ink stain. In a few spastic twist, the soul left the body. When the blood spread over the floor, Damian could see his reflection in it. His face was constructed out of different colors of red.   
He stood there until his boots where enveloped by the red liquid. The smell reminded him of his mother, who he hadn’t seen for a while. She would be proud, he would tell her of this when he turned seven. She only visited on birthdays. The eyes of the child seemed to glance in the light of the lamp. But slowly all the color was draining out of him, so he would become like a sculpture, hard, cold and still. Damian had known this child, he had talked to him, it was the child of one of his servants. The women kept complaining about her sick son. And because Damian found this women an excellent servant, he did her and her son a favor. Now there was no need for complaining anymore, now the illness was exterminated. 

Exactly at twelve O’clock, his lesson started. Violin. Every time he played a false note, the woman pulled his hair. One time a hole bunch of hair came out, you could have made a painters brush with it. Violin was an instrument of grace, like a bird who lets himself get carried by the wind. The bow was an extension of the arm, the notes where high and strangled themselves through the walls so it echoed in the hallways. He played a slow melody in A minor. The music filled his heart, and while playing he thought of the child, that he helped leaving this world. His face, the dark skin, the long black eyelashes, his pointy nose, his skinny arms and his blue shorts. When he played the theme of the song, he thought about the red of his lips and in his cheeks. His eyes where watery, but he didn’t know why. No, he did know. It is hard to kill, it is tough, but it needed to be done. 

There was a lesson in everything, so he noticed, while making himself ready to be bathed. A woman with long hair and big boobs undressed him and guided him to the bath. Everything happens for a reason. He stepped gracefully into the hot water, it smelled like red roses. The warmed of the water soaked into his muscles and for a second he relaxed. He stiffened again when the woman started washing him. She started with the hair, then slowly worked her way down to his belly, then his penis and butt, to end with his foot. They did not speak, and their movements where minimal. When she was done she dried him off with a rough towel. She put his clothes on . She was about to walk away, when she stopped in the middle of her step. “Did you kill Dennis?” She asked softly. Damian nodded “naturally, he was weak, he was sick, so I freed him.” The woman stared at him for a second, then she nodded “Thank you.” She bowed and left.   
2  
His professor Philosophy was a strange man. He was young with round glasses. Every lesson he gave Damian a book, that’s all. He did not teach and after a few months of reading heavy literature, Damian confronted him. 

“ You, professor of Philosophy, why do you not teach?”

He just stared at him trough his round glasses, but did not answer.

“I demand you to speak!”

The man still stared, not moving. Damian walked towards him angerly until their noses nearly touched. 

“SPEAK!” He screamed as loud as he possibly could. “SPEAK!!”

A silence fell but they both refused to move or look away. After a few long minutes the professor opened his mouth. 

“Fine” He whispered softly. “I shall speak, but it will not be what you want to hear.”

“Tell me.” Damian answered without hesitation

“To do Philosophy you have to be able to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, you have to be able to understand humanity. You can not ever do this, you are not human, you are a machine constructed by your mother, you have no personality that you can call your own, your mind is lost in the ways of the assassin, therefore you will not understand.” 

“How dare you speak to me in such manner!” Damian grabbed the man’s throat and started to strangle him

“Killing is wrong! … Who are ..you.. to decide … someone’s...fa….”

Damian watched how the face of the philosopher slowly became purple, he was trying to pull Damian’s hands away but he lost strength quickly. He tried to say one last thing, but it was not understandable. When his arms fell flat next to the body, Damian pushed him away, as if the man was made of fire. 

“I am Damian Al Gull.” He said 

Afterwards he could hear the professors last words play in his head every time he even thought of killing someone, as if it was the man’s last revenge.

Who am I to decide someone’s fate?

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked the read. Please tell me what you think, I always love to hear


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